The Signature

The Signature

Jane, a middle ranking civil servant, felt aggrieved at having to present her timesheet to the lieutenant, as Captain James was on annual leave. She had worked at the unit for 12 years, and now she had to hand her timesheet for authorisation by a glorified schoolboy.



Lieutenant Island examined the time sheet closely, as would any good officer, and had discovered a mistake which gave him grounds to reject the timesheet. It was not his intention to humiliate the woman, whom he knew to be at least fifteen years older, though his subordinate; such are the ways of military life.



She decided that she would confront the lieutenant; it's about time, she thought, that he was brought down a peg or two. She had always considered him an arrogant upstart, just because his father owned half the county; Island’s bakery, Island’s livery company even the local pub was called Island’s Hatch. In her position, she dealt with all the administration and knew every intimate detail about the lieutenant. She knew he had a first from Oxford, but only in theology she told herself and knew that he would get masters in three years, with no extra effort, but what good is a degree in theology if you're not going to be a vicar.



“So tell me, sir why have you rejected my timesheet?”



“Quite simple,” replied Lieutenant Island, “you have claimed the number of hours."



"No I haven't,” she replied emphatically, “I am paid for 40 hours a week, and last week we had a 50% grant.”



“Exactly, you worked 20 hours……”



“…and claimed the other 20.” She interrupted triumphantly.



"I agree, but you claimed 50 hours, not 50 per cent.”



It was a red-faced Jane who looked at the timesheet on which she had made 20 hours plus 50% equal 70 hours.